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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27309715">Prerequisite for Comfort</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsandlavender/pseuds/lilacsandlavender'>lilacsandlavender</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes One-Shots [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, One Shot, Sharing a Bed, holmesbury - Freeform, im a sucker for tropes bye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:22:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,318</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27309715</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsandlavender/pseuds/lilacsandlavender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Enola Holmes brings Tewkesbury back to her apartment room, but this time they don't get caught, which leads them to sleeping in the same room like that's a perfectly normal thing for unmarried couples to do in the 1880's.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes/Viscount "Tewky" Tewksbury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes One-Shots [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>346</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Prerequisite for Comfort</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(A very slightly extended version of the tumblr version of this story because I don't feel bad posting long(er) stories on a site that's made for stories.) Wanted to write on the "but there was only one bed" trope for Holmesbury for a while and finally got around to doing it! Some mild fluffiness towards the end ensues. Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was late in the evening when Enola Holmes let out a irritated sigh and began to push the scattered notes she’d made over the past three hours into a pile in front of where she sat cross-legged on her bed.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>After finding Tewkesbury at the flower market, she’d brought him back to her room at the boarding house, and with the bounty not only on her head but also the sizable one on Tewkesbury’s, she had decided that the two of them would stay indoors for the rest of the day...or at least until she’d made some headway on the case. There was no use risking capture any more than necessary, for that would just unravel all the work she'd put into finding - and saving - the viscount.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Unfortunately, to her frustration, she could not figure out the reason why Tewkesbury’s family – or family member – wanted him dead. She’d made a valid point earlier that his money, power, and property were realistic worldly possessions to pursue, but she was missing a larger motive. And knowing that was driving her crazy. She decided to call it a night.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Hastily pulling herself to a standing position, she set the papers onto the windowsill above her bed and cleared her throat. “I’m going to bed.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>From his own spot on the ground, Tewkesbury glanced up from Enola’s copy of <em>The Language of Flowers </em>he’d been reading by the light of the fire. She’d given it to him for his entertainment, and he’d surprisingly spent the last hour and a half pouring over it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Enola snatched her nightgown from where it lay draped over the footboard of her bed and started to shred her dress before freezing in realization that <em>Tewkesbury was less than five yards away. </em>She glanced over quickly to see how much he had seen, but of <em>course </em>the marquess had completely averted his gaze, face dramatically turned so it was obvious that he wasn’t making sport of watching her undress. He must have remembered how he unintentionally saw her undergarments when he’d first arrived and was trying to avoid a repeat incident. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Are you, um...decent?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tewkesbury’s voice cut into the air, bringing Enola back to the present with a start. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh! I- Almost.” She thought for a split second of simply using the bathroom to change but then decided against it. He was clearly embarrassed, and she thought that it might send the sign that she didn’t trust his clear intentions if she left. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>After slipping into the white article of clothing, Enola slid into bed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She'd been having trouble sleeping recently. With her currently missing mother, running from her brothers situation, and now new case, she had a lot of material to occupy her mind at night.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>So after she’d brought Tewkesbury to her room, in order to avoid another factor that would lead her to getting even <em>less</em> sleep, she’d proclaimed,</p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>"I have but a single bed, so you'll have to sleep on the floor."</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The truth of the sentence hadn’t changed from noon to dusk. Enola was firm in her resolution to stay steadfast to that promise, she couldn’t help but take a peek at Tewkesbury. He’d noticed her movement and met her gaze. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He offered her a small smile and said, “I see that it is time for us to retire for the night?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Enola knew he hadn’t meant to imply anything other than settling down to sleep, but his casual, questioning tone and the diction of his words made her think for a fraction of a second that what he’d said sounded an awful a lot like what a married couple might ask each other before heading to bed...together. It sent a shiver of bashfulness up her spine. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Breaking eye contact, she cleared her throat and tried not to think about how he was completely disregarding her demand from earlier to not look at her like <em>that</em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Are...are you comfortable?” she blurted out in a hasty attempt to keep her mind from wandering too far down a dangerous road.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The moment the words were out, Enola wanted to either slap herself or die of embarrassment. Maybe both. Of <em>course </em>he wasn’t comfortable. The heat of the fire might have been of some convenience, but he was lying on hardwood, the only thing separating him and the ground being a threadbare rug. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I mean, I can try to find a spare blanket, or something for you to use as a pillow-”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>But Tewkesbury simply chuckled and dismissed her offer with a shake of his head. “I am quite all right,” he assured her. “Anything beats sleeping in the woods right after jumping off a moving train, right?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>All Enola could do was nod in agreement, but his words didn’t lessen her guilt as she watched the viscount curl up in a fetal position. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>After a moment more of watching him, she finally allowed herself to sink down further under her covers. “Sleep well then,” she told him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Good night, Enola Holmes.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Try as Enola might as the night wore on, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from wandering back to why someone wanted Tewkesbury dead. She’d made a valid point earlier that his money, power, and property were worldly yet realistic motives, but she couldn’t fathom the amount of greed and soullessness a person had to possess to actually follow through with it, to attempt to murder a seventeen year-old boy who wasn’t guilty of anything but irritating the living daylights out of her. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Though she’d been working on the mystery all day, she realized with a start that she’d never took a moment to consider how Tewkesbury was feeling about the whole case. She’d never asked him, too focused on the technicalities of his case, but he must be worried and scared, now aware that the man in the brown bowler hat was stopping at nothing to hunt him down. Even worse was the knowledge that someone in his <em>family </em>had hired the hit man. There was no way he wasn’t feeling rejected, alone, and out of place. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Enola could sympathize with that since her own family had all but turned on her as well. However, she didn’t feel hated by her family. Unwanted, yes, but while her brothers wanted to stick her in some horrible school, at least they didn’t want her <em>dead</em>. To her shock, her heart began to pound with sadness and anxiety for the marquess. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And it was in that moment she stopped fighting the truth: <em>She truly cared about Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether.</em> It dawned on her that with each day that passed and she didn’t solve the case, the probability of him of him dying grew...and that terrified her. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Call it the enormous pressure of responsibility suddenly weighing on her shoulders; call it the exhaustion of running around London under a fake identity, but it was suddenly all too much. Enola felt utterly hopeless, and a wave of wishing her mother was there to comfort and guide her drenched her from head to toe. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her emotion began to manifest itself in the form of tears, and she quickly sniffed as a reflex to keep her crying in check. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Unfortunately, Tewkesbury was <em>not </em>asleep like Enola had thought, and she froze when he sat up. Other than the light provided by the moon, the room was dark, yet Enola could tell he was facing her. She felt his curiosity spike and prayed he wouldn’t act on it.  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>If you don’t move, maybe he’ll think you’re sleeping.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But then the side of her bed sagged under the weight of the boy, and he was saying, “Enola? I know you’re awake. Are you okay?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She sighed and sat up at a 45 degree angle to swipe the back of her hand across an eye. “I’m fine,” she insisted, but her voice betrayed her, clogged thickly with unshed tears begging to released. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>When Tewkesbury didn’t move or say anything, Enola thought her distress might have scared him into silently slinking back to the ground. Rather, he searched for her hand, and when he found it, instead of verbalizing his acknowledgement of what the dampness he felt meant, he held it tenderly in his own, the pad of his thumb rubbing slow, gentle circles in her palm. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Just as Enola was working on getting her breath under control-</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Move over.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She stared at him through wet eyes. She didn’t think she heard him right – in fact she hadn’t heard him speak with such authority before – and when she hesitated, he repeated himself. Bewildered, she followed his command.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tewkesbury copied her sitting position, and because there wasn’t much room for either of them on her skinny bed, their arms were forced to be pressed together.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>They stayed silent like that for what seemed like forever. Then Tewkesbury softly said, “You do know that whatever’s going on, you can tell me, right?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I already said-”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I know. But if you want...I’m here.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Enola bit down hard on her inner bottom lip to stifle a sob, but this time one of gratitude. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed to be provided with a listening ear until Tewkesbury had offered both of his.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Exhausted from stress, Enola sank down on the bed and, without thinking too long on the consequences of her next action, rolled over on her right side...which landed her torso halfway on top of Tewkesbury’s - or at least as much of her that the blanket separating them would allow. She pressed her face into his shoulder and finally let herself softy cry, the overwhelming feelings of defeat, nervousness, and abandonment leaving along with her tears.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>If Tewkesbury was shocked or upset by her surprise maneuver, he didn’t show it. He let her use him as her personal handkerchief but didn’t make a move to touch her. </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Always the perfect, careful gentleman,</em> Enola managed to think between sniffles. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I just...I feel so responsible for you, and I don't know how to tell you that when <em>you're </em>the one looking out for <em>me </em>right now.” She pulled away slightly and examined the amount of damage her waterworks had imposed on him. "Oh, and now look: I've gone and messed up your clothes-”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tewkesbury let out a short laugh. “Don't worry about it, Enola. I have a million others like it.” Then in a more tender voice, “I know it’s not just my safety that’s on your mind. I mean, you said it yourself: I <em>am </em>a nincompoop.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>This time it was Enola’s turn to choke out a laugh before turning serious once more. “It’s just...my brothers are after me to send me to boarding school...”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“...they’ll never catch you; you’re much too clever.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“And my mother,” she admitted, pushing onwards. “I’ve never been completely in the dark about her whereabouts; I’ve never been left like this.” Running her index finger over the buttons on the vest piece of Tewkesbury’s suit coat she whispered, “And I miss her, and the longer I go without a message from her, the more I doubt she wants to be found.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>There. She had said it. In her head she’d sounded like some young child who had gotten separated from their mother at the market, and she expected to feel silly, but a rush of relief filled her instead. Though physically angled oddly, Enola didn’t feel odd telling her worries to Tewkesbury. It felt good – even <em>comforting</em> – to share her troubles out loud.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Well, for what my option is worth, I think she wants you to find her.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Twisting her head and arching her neck to look at his face, Enola scrunched her nose. He sounded so confident that she wanted to believe him. “And do tell, Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether, how can you be so sure?” </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tewkesbury dared to bring his outside arm up and over so that it hesitantly rested on Enola’s waist before murmuring, “Because only a crazy person would voluntarily give up your company.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>There went her heart again. Stupid thing had a mind of its own. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>At a loss for words, Enola wanted to roll her eyes at his comment. She continuously wanted to find some fault in him that would justify any annoyance about his near-death encounter halting the search for her mother, but she came up empty every time. It was his sweet demeanor and kind eyes that had won her over from the start; and his chivalry, unexpected passion for flora, and attentiveness to her were doing something funny to her heart that she didn’t completely hate. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Tewkesbury’s worried voice brought her back to earth. “Are you comfortable?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Enola freely laughed at his query, firstly because it was a late echo of her own question, and then secondly because it seemed like such a <em>ridiculous</em> question: a first glance at their position depicted a view of the two of them laying on a bed that was obviously made for one person.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>But then again, unspoken evidence strongly pointed to the theory that they <em>were</em> comfortable. Both Enola and Tewkesbury voluntarily hadn’t bothered to search for the space they knew wouldn’t have existed between them if they’d tried laying side by side. Equally taking advantage of the situation, the pair seemed content, basking in the contentment they provided each other.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>And when Enola whispered “Don’t leave” as her answer – to which Tewkesbury sincerely replied “Wasn’t planning on it” – she shifted so her head then lay on Tewkesbury’s chest, and she swore that she could stay that way forever: wrapped in warmth and listening to his heart beat to the syllables of thousands of unspoken words between them.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>She drifted off, thinking about how she couldn’t wait to speak and hear those sentences that would continue to bring them closer to becoming emotionally comfortable with each other.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Falling asleep was easy that night.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
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